


Showing Up

by Path



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures, Problem Sleuth - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-30
Updated: 2011-06-30
Packaged: 2017-10-20 21:07:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/217107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Path/pseuds/Path
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You told him, "Try not to embarrass me." And now you're just waiting for it to happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Showing Up

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from the Kink Meme for somebody in a proper pinstriped suit. Ohhhhh yessssss~

When you told him, "Try not to embarrass me," you both knew what you mean: _"Don't wear what you always do."_ No rips and visible threadbaring. No throwing together whatever he happens to find and hoping for the best. No bloodstains.

It's a tall order of business, even for you. Thankfully, for occasions such as this, you have Diamonds Droog to set you straight. Problem Sleuth has no well-dressed buddy. Pickle Inspector is, if anything, even more absent-minded than Sleuth is (most days, you're impressed he remembers to wear pants), and Ace Dick's idea of fashion ended at the plaid suit.

It's not like you've got some great mind for it, anyhow. You just want him to look good because everybody's gonna be there, and if the Unsurpassed Bitch is going to see you with anybody, they better have it going on. But it can't be Droog. She knows Droog. Has to be someone new. Wild card. Someone she won't expect.

So Droog's out, despite the fact that he's the best dresser you know, and has that pretentious asshole nature that looks really good to outsiders. All of the Crew is out, not that you'd consider them anyhow. Besides, it's gotten to the point where you can be ostensibly considered to _be with_ Problem Sleuth. It's not like it's a big thing. It's just that you've steadily filtered out your usual company of flappers and floozies until he's the only person you go home with at night. So you guess you can stand to be seen in his company in front of everybody.

If he doesn't dress like he always does. "I'll do my best," he responded wryly, and you told him that his best was only marginally better than Deuce's so he'd better get some help.

To be fair, if it was any other night, you'd give pretty much zero thought to it yourself. If it's black, practical, and relatively free of bloodstains (hence, the black), you'll probably wear it without thinking. But tonight is special, dammit, and you're not showing up just to have whoever's on Snowman's arm show you up.

You bet she'll bring Doc Scratch. None of the Felt are fit to be seen in company, bow ties or no.

So you wait in relative comfort in the new duds Droog found you, which meet most of your prerequisites: black, simple, and somehow inexplicably nicer than what you always wear. You're not sure what the difference is. Feels nicer. That's the mark of really good clothes, Droog tells you. You have your comfortable clothes and then your good clothes, and it always feels better in your usual stuff. But then it sort of loops back around once you get to the high end and you end up feeling oddly good in them after all.

The only discomfort, as you wait at the agreed spot, is a sort of anticipatory rage. You understand that other people call it "worry". You just focus on how much you're going to enjoy pummelling Problem Sleuth if he drops the ball on this one.

So you wait and pace and figure that Doc Scratch is going to show you up again with his smug asshole pretention that looks so great to everybody else, until there's a cough behind you and you turn around to see some guy in a fantastic fucking hat and suit standing there and trying to look unassuming and oh, holy crap it's Problem Sleuth. What.

You actually did not recognize him. You thought that shit only happened in fiction.

For once, he's wearing a well-cut suit. Flatters him, makes him look a bit taller and more gaunt, and sort of rougher by virtue of the suit being so neat. It's dark, though not black, with pale lines giving form to jacket, pants, and... good fucking god, he's wearing a vest.

And spats. You don't even own spats. You can catch the glint of cuff links as he self-consciously adjusts his tie. A _tie_ , charcoal and muted, a long stretch from his usual hideous green failure and with a little pin, a laurel crown, in silver and steel. He's even switched his white hat out for a matching striped grey one.

And there is a card in it. It's a joker.

You feel tears welling up in your eyes and you tremble like a school girl on prom night.

It's... so... beautiful...

He glances up from under his hat, a move he must have practiced in front of the mirror before performing, but now it's seamless and casual. It makes you crack a hopeful and awed smile that nearly breaks your face from unfamiliarity. "Evening, Slick," he says easily. "Sorry I'm late."

"...S'fine," you manage with some effort. Then, because what the fuck, "...what the fuck?"

"Oh, this?" he asks, still sort of detached. "So I can get swanked up when the occasion demands." He shrugs, and the lines of his suit follow his motion and you wonder, _why doesn't he wear this all the time?_

"You did this?" you ask incredulously.

"Yeah. You'd be surprised what you pick up with all that diplomacy, and so on." He answers with what you suspect Droog would tell you is exactly the right time between your question and his response. To you, it just projects _out of your league_.

You get the feeling that despite your earlier hopes, you are definitely going to be shown up tonight. On the plus side, though, so is Doc Scratch.


End file.
